An American independent publisher emailed me saying he wanted to publish some of my stories in a book.

I said no.

Not because I thought the offer meant nothing, but because I know myself. I do not want contracts across oceans, legal traps hidden in polite language, rights discussions, editorial interference, and the slow feeling that something personal is slipping out of my hands.

I would rather keep the work close and release it later in a few copies for friends, than turn something I love into a bureaucratic headache. Not every refusal is fear. Sometimes it is self respect.